


Describe What You Can See

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Blidness, Developing Relationship, M/M, Male Friendship, Nature, Not-So-One-Sided-Crush, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 21:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: Edward wishes he could see the beauty of nature again and asks Thomas to describe what he can see.[An unofficial follow up to 'Touching To See'.]





	Describe What You Can See

**Author's Note:**

> I can't seem to stop writing at the moment.  
> I hope I don't burn out too soon because I'm enjoying myself.
> 
> Unfortunately, I tried to get cracking with 'Needs Must', a story that is currently on hiatus because I can't find the motivation to finish it. I think I need to give up the ghost with that one...if anyone would like to take it off me and finish it, please do. Take it. Do what you will.

After overhearing two soldiers whispering his name, Edward asked Corporal Barrow to take him to the secluded seating area behind the hospital. Barrow had taken him there before and Edward enjoyed the brief moment of peace. It was exhausting for Edward to constantly sense other people looking at him, watching him, muttering about his declining optimism. It was the murmurs of pity that irritated him the most; pity was patronising. He loathed it.

Sitting in the warm sunshine, Edward tried to focus on the sounds and smells of the world around him. He could smell roses. Their delicate scent made him reminisce about his childhood and the times he spent chasing his brother around the neat flowerbeds in their garden. He could picture his five-year-old brother in his mind’s eye; dimpled and sweet. His pudgy hands reached out to Edward and he called his name in a sing-song voice.

_“Edward! Eddy! Chase me!”_

The summers of their childhood had been bathed in gold and green, colours Edward would never see again.

 

“Is everything alright?”

Edward jumped, startled by the interruption. He turned his head to face Barrow. He could feel the man’s stares. Barrow was likely searching his face for any signs of unhappiness. Edward wondered what he saw.

After a few moments passed, Edward realised he was being rude by not replying to the man’s question.

“I’m fine, Barrow,” he said flatly. He didn’t have the energy to force cheeriness.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you just looked a little sad,” Barrow pressed.

The corporal was never put off by Edward’s blunt answers and perpetual pessimism, a fact that never ceased to amaze the moody lieutenant. Barrow had once confessed that he could be very unkind to others and that he had been horribly mischievous when he worked as a footman at Downton Abbey. Edward could scarcely believe it, Barrow was always so mellow and sweet when he was alone with him.

“I suppose I don’t mind,” Edward said honestly, heaving a small sigh. “I don’t mind _you_ saying so.”

Barrow shifted slightly, his clothes rustled whilst he fidgeted.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asked tentatively, casting a sideways glance at Edward.

When the lieutenant didn’t answer, he didn’t press Edward for an answer. They fell into a comfortable silence as they listened to the birds singing in the treetops. When Barrow began to amuse himself by humming ‘God Save the King’, Edward allowed his mind to wander. His memory took him to the South of France. Nice, one of his favourite cities. He could remember sitting on the pebbled beach with three of his friends. They had spent a month there after their second year at Oxford. He could still picture the bright summer sky and smell the cakes they had bought from a small patisserie. It had been a perfect day.

He sighed softly.  Barrow noticed. Edward could sense him turning his head.

“I’m fine, Barrow,” he repeated, a slither of irritation creeping into his voice. It made him feel a little guilty.

“I didn’t say anything,” replied Barrow.

“But you’re thinking,” Edward countered, taking care to sound a little more patient. He hated taking out his frustrations on the kind corporal.

Barrow chuckled, “You’re right, I was thinking. You keep signing, so it seems rude not to wonder if someone’s wrong. There’s the obvious of course, but…”

As his words trailed away, Edward agreed, “Oh yes, there’s the obvious.”

“It’s not easy for you,” Barrow said softly.

Edward snorted and rested his weight on his hands, leaning his body backwards as a gentle, warm breeze blew over them. It carried the smell of freshly cut grass and ripe apples. Edward wished he could see his surroundings so he could admire the beauty of nature once more.

“Barrow,” he said loudly.

“Yes?”

Edward ducked his chin and shyly asked, “Would mind describing what you can see?”

Barrow scratched his skin and shuffled on their seat, edging a little closer to Edward’s side.

“Of course,” he said cheerfully. “I’m no poet, mind you. I might not do the gardens justice.”

“I’m not asking for you to be Shakespeare,” Edward coaxed, smiling slightly.

“Well,” Barrow began. “We’re surrounded by a gathering of small trees. Some are apple trees, I can see a few hangings from the branches. They’re all green and look like they will be delicious. Would you like me to pick one?”

“No, thank you,” Edward said kindly, shaking his head. “Please, take one if you would like one. I can wait. Unless you need to get back to work, I know you have other duties.”

“No, don’t worry. I’m allowed to stay with you for a while and Clarkson knows where I am,” Barrow assured him as he scratched his skin again.

Edward nodded and replied, “Good. Could you continue describing things to me?”

Barrow yawned and said, “I’ll try to be more descriptive. I’m not bored by the way! I’m just tired.”

The lieutenant chuckled and reached out his hand. It hovered in the air for a moment before landing on the other man’s cold hand. He gave it a comforting pat, then withdrew.

“You have cold hands,” he noted, not unkindly.

“Cold hands, warm heart!” Barrow joked. “Though I don’t suppose many people would consider me warm hearted.”

Edward made a noise of disbelief and scoffed, “Then I think those people are fools.”

The comment escaped his lips before he could stop it. Blushing, he ducked his head again and cleared his throat. It unnerved him a little to feel so drawn to Barrow. He had never been so captivated by another person before and it puzzled him. He often pondered why he was so fascinated with the young corporal. Perhaps it was his endless patience, his empathy and genuine advice. There was something quite vulnerable about the man and sometimes an aura of sadness hung about him, suggesting the man had a difficult life. He was also rather sensitive, emotional to a fault when he let his guard down. It did make Edward wonder about Barrow’s character.

Impulsively and without though, Edward blurted, “Can I call you by your Christian name?”

“Hmm?” Barrow mumbled before yawning again.

“Would you mind?” Edward asked again as heat pooled into his cheeks. “Would you mind if I called you Thomas? You may call me Edward. We talk so much and we’re not in a trench, not anymore. Or so I keep telling myself.”

 “Yes, you can call me whatever you like,” Thomas replied happily. “I know what you mean though…you have nightmares as well, don’t you?”

“We all do,” muttered Edward. “The other soldiers, they toss in their beds at night and cry. Sometimes I can’t bear it, but there’s nothing anyone can do.”

“No, there isn’t,” Thomas agreed solemnly. He heaved a sigh and patted his knees.

Before the moment could become too sombre, Edward leaned closer towards Thomas and said, “I would still like to know what you can see. Describe it to me again, please.”

He smiled when he heard Thomas laugh, a light, tinkling giggle. It made his heart flutter and a fond smile spread across his lips.

“Alright, but if you laugh, I’m stopping,” Thomas warned, nudging Edward’s side with his sharp elbow. “I’ll be as descriptive as I can so I might get a bit carried away.”

Edward tutted and flapped an impatient hand in his direction. He returned the man’s nudge and assured Thomas that he wouldn’t laugh, not once.

“So, it’s a lovely warm day. You’ll know this already,” Thomas said calmly. “It’s the kind of weather that feels like a kiss of summer; it’s familiar.”

Edward swallowed and mumbled, “Yes, it is.”

Thomas went on, “I can tell you that the grass at our feet is soft green. As it stretches onwards, past the hedge and over the distant fields, I swear it almost has a hint of blue. Maybe it’s the shadows cast by the scattering of fluffy white clouds. Maybe it’s my eyes. Either way, it’s nice. Very scenic. The sky is blue, as blue as forget-me-not flowers. It’s perfect. Above our heads, a flock of birds are flying over the hospital. A butterfly has just landed on a tree trunk that is about a metre away from us. It’s white. My mother once told me that butterflies are the flowers of the air. They both arrive in summer, both are beautiful and their delicate bodies dance together in the breeze. In front of us at the border of the hospital is the hedge. Lining the hedge is a row of lavenders. Their vibrant purple flowers and green stalks are swaying in the wind, filling the air with their fragrance. Can you smell them?”

“Yes,” Edward breathed, gazing into his darkness with a look of awe. He may not be able to physically see the flowers but he could certainly smell them now. Apples and lavender. Grass. Thomas’s sweet cologne. Soap. Stone. Fresh air.

Thomas added, “I can see a small bee sitting on a rose bush. It’s not moving at all. The long grass around the tree trunks are swaying now as the wind is picking up.”

“I bet it’s beautiful,” Edward choked. “All of it.”

“It is,” Thomas confirmed.

“I’d like to go back inside now, Thomas.”

A warm, steady hand gently patted his shoulder. Edward leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. When the hand slid from his shoulder and wrapped its fingers around his bicep, he took hold of the walking cane he had placed between his knees and rose from his seat without complaint.

“Let’s go,” Thomas said softly, guiding Edward to the left.

Swallowing, Edward whispered, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little (sort of) one-shot.


End file.
